Citation
That queer old man in the moon

Material Information

Title:
That queer old man in the moon
Creator:
Gay, Marion
Ira Bradley & Co ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Ira Bradley & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged). : ill. (some col.) ; 24 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1889 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1889 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1889
Genre:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by Marion Gay ; and other stories.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026623370 ( ALEPH )
ALG3725 ( NOTIS )
70870161 ( OCLC )

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THAT QUEER

OLD MAN IN THE MOON,

BY MARION GAY

AND OTHER STORIES.



ILLUSTRATED.



COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY D. -R. NIVER PUB. CO.

BOSTON, MASS.:
TRA BRADLEY & Co., 162 WASHINGTON STREET.
1889.



THE MAN IN THE MOON.

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

“\ H, the man in the moon has a crick in his back;





Whee! Whimm! Ain’t you sorry for him?
} And a mole on his nose that is purple and black;
: And his eyes are so weak that they water and run,
Ss If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun,
_ So he just dreams of stars, as the doctors advise.
My! Eyes! But isn’t he wise
To just dream of stars, as the doctors advise.

And the man in the moon has a boil on his ear;
Whee! Whing! What a singular thing!

I know; but these facts are authentic, my dear—

There’s a boil on his ear, and a corn on his chin—

He calls it a dimple, but dimples stick in;

Yet it might be a dimple, turned over you know;
Whang! Ho! Why, certainly so!

It might be a dimple turned over, you know! |

And the man in the moon has a rheumatic knee;
Gee! Whizz! What a pity that is!
His toes have worked ’round where his heels ought to be;
’ So whenever he wants to go north he goes south,
And comes back with the porridge crumbs all ’round his
mouth,
And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan,
Whing! Whann! What a marvelous man!
What a very remarkable, marvelous man!

*





What she must do
With her beautiful Dolly,

So nice and new.

She thinks she will lend it
To dear little Jane—
Her friend who is poorly,

And suffers great pain.

She knows to give pleasure
To others is right;
So with selfishness Fanny’s °

Determined to fight.





THE SWAN AND HER FAMILY.

OF course nearly all the children have seen the beau-



tiful swan. They are by far the handsomest of home
fowls. In this picture you will see the old swan
feeding her young. There are five of the young
ones, and the mother is watching over them, and
caring for them. In the large parks in the cities, the ponds are
always stocked with the handsome and graceful swans. In Central
Park, in New York, there were a number of swans on one of the
ponds that were very tame. One day a little girl went down by
the edge of the pond to play, while her nurse sat down to read a
book near by. The little girl wandered out on a little rustic
bridge, and while pushing chips around on the water, playing they
were her ships, she lost her balance and fell into the water. The
swans made an awful noise and flapped their wings, attracting the
attention of the nurse and two workmen, who rushed to the pond

and pulled the little girl out of the water.

A TALE OF WOE.

HERE was a considerable crocodile,
Who lay on the banks of the river Nile.
And he swallowed a fish with a tale of woe,
While his tears ran fast to the stream: below.
“I am mourning,” said he, “the untimely fate
Of the dear little fish that I just now ate!“



THE SWAN AND HER FAMILY.

OF course nearly all the children have seen the beau-



tiful swan. They are by far the handsomest of home
fowls. In this picture you will see the old swan
feeding her young. There are five of the young
ones, and the mother is watching over them, and
caring for them. In the large parks in the cities, the ponds are
always stocked with the handsome and graceful swans. In Central
Park, in New York, there were a number of swans on one of the
ponds that were very tame. One day a little girl went down by
the edge of the pond to play, while her nurse sat down to read a
book near by. The little girl wandered out on a little rustic
bridge, and while pushing chips around on the water, playing they
were her ships, she lost her balance and fell into the water. The
swans made an awful noise and flapped their wings, attracting the
attention of the nurse and two workmen, who rushed to the pond

and pulled the little girl out of the water.

A TALE OF WOE.

HERE was a considerable crocodile,
Who lay on the banks of the river Nile.
And he swallowed a fish with a tale of woe,
While his tears ran fast to the stream: below.
“I am mourning,” said he, “the untimely fate
Of the dear little fish that I just now ate!“















































































































































THE ATTACK.

FF they raced! :

“Oh, put away your books!” called their
governess.

An instant’s pause, then Phil, who was
always so conscientious, rushed back.

“Tl do it!” he exclaimed; “you get the
snowballs made.”

The rest ran on to the place, where at two
o'clock their cousins had arranged to meet
them.

Phil was not long behind the rest; for Miss

Rolls had helped him in her own pleasant way;



but when the whole party reached the place,
there, cleverly ensconced behind a fine rampart, were the rosy
faces of five cousins, “armed to the teeth,” as one may say, with
white cannon-balls.

When the hour pealed forth over the snowy fields, the first ball
whizzed through the air, and soon you might have thought it was
a giants’ snow-storm !

“T say, give us time to wink!” called Phil, winking however
towards his brother, while he pressed an extra close one, to do
extra execution.

“JT dare say!” laughed Bertie from the ramparts, sending a swift
one with good aim; “wouldn’t you like us to take it in turns?”

The giants’ snow-storm lasted until it got too dark to see, and
then, neither party confessing to defeat, the enemies joined hands.
and raced home again !

“ Jolly!” said Phil; and so said all the rest!



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DOLLY’S NEW HEAD.

* FATHER sat beside the fire,
And, as the news he read,

He heard his children tell a tale
About their Dolly’s head. |



“Don’t you remember Christmas day,
When Aunt brought Dolly down?
She said it was the finest doll

She saw in all the town!”

“Yes, Janie, J remember well
When Dolly first came here,
And we all kissed her, for she was

A sweet and darling dear.

“Alas! One day she lost her head,
While romping, I’m afraid;
But, with our rags and box of paints,

A new head soon we made.”

AFRAID OF THE BARK.

(% OME on, come on!” said a gentleman to a little girl, at

whom a dog had been barking furiously; “Come on, he’s
quiet now.” “But,” said the little girl, nervously, “the barks are

in him still.”



DOLLY’S NEW HEAD.

* FATHER sat beside the fire,
And, as the news he read,

He heard his children tell a tale
About their Dolly’s head. |



“Don’t you remember Christmas day,
When Aunt brought Dolly down?
She said it was the finest doll

She saw in all the town!”

“Yes, Janie, J remember well
When Dolly first came here,
And we all kissed her, for she was

A sweet and darling dear.

“Alas! One day she lost her head,
While romping, I’m afraid;
But, with our rags and box of paints,

A new head soon we made.”

AFRAID OF THE BARK.

(% OME on, come on!” said a gentleman to a little girl, at

whom a dog had been barking furiously; “Come on, he’s
quiet now.” “But,” said the little girl, nervously, “the barks are

in him still.”





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A SLEEPY LITTLE SCHOOL,

FUNNY old professor kept a school for little boys,

And he’d romp with them in playtime, and he wouldn't
mind their noise;

While in his little schocl-room, with its head against



the wall,
Was a bed of such proportions, it was big enough for all.

“It's for tired little pupils,” he exclaimed; “for you will find

How very wrong indeed it is to force a budding mind;



Whenever one grows sleepy and he can’t hold up his head,

I make him lay his primer down and send him off to bed!

“And sometimes it will happen on a warm and pleasant day,
When the little bird’s upon the trees go too-ral-loo-ral-lay,

~ When wide-awake and studious its difficult to keep,

One by one they'll get a-nodding ’till the whole class is asleep!

“Then before they’re all in dreamland and their funny snores
begin,

I close the shutters softly so the sunlight can’t come in,

After which I put the school-books in their order on the shelf;

And, with nothing else to do, I take a little nap myself.”

BRIGHT BOYS.

RQ EALTHY boys are usually bright boys; but boys are



BS not really healthy unless they are healthy in soul as
, well as in body. The boy whose mouth is full of
vile talk, and whose heart is full of evil thoughts, may
be sharp and cunning, and crafty and tricky, but he is not likely |
to be a bright boy. We miss in him the steady, honest glance,
the clear, bright, earnest gaze, the fearlessness which looks men in
the face, without bravado or hesitation. There is no fairer sight
than the sight of a bright, clear-eyed, honest, happy boy; while
there are few sights more pitiful than the crouching, sneaking,
lying, thieving, drinking, tobacco-chewing boy. We hope all the
boys who read this book will be bright boys, honest boys, Christian

boys.







A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

‘f7 OB wanted to make his little sister Maggie a present
on her fourth birthday. For weeks before he had
saved up his pennies, and bought some nice eggs on
which to set Mrs. Hen. The next day was Maggie’s
birthday, and for three long weeks Mrs. Hen had
been sitting on the eggs. Every day Bob had been
anxious, and this, the last night, he could hardly sleep,
his anxiety was so great. When ‘the slanting rays of



the morning sun shown in Bob’s window, he jumped
out of bed with a start, and rushed down into the shed. The first
thing that greeted his ear was a tiny. “Chirp, chirp.” Down on
his knees Bob went, and in spite of the vigorous picks of Mrs.
Hen, he could feel under her, one, two, three, and even four little
chicks. Springing up, he ran into the house and woke Maggie,
crying: “ Maggie, it’s your birthday,” and then he hurried her down
into the shed Maggie was delighted with Bob’s birthday gift, and
Bob was fully repaid for his self-denial.

TOO BAD.

BY SIDNEY DAYRE.

LITTLE while ago the moon was pretty, and large, and round,

q Making shine on the flowers and trees, and shadows along
the ground.

But now, can anyone tell who climbed away, ’way up in the sky,

And watched among the little white clouds ’till the moon came
sailing by,

And carried scissors along with them? Now, mamma, you needn't
laugh;

They've cut the beautiful moon in two and lost the other half.







A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

‘f7 OB wanted to make his little sister Maggie a present
on her fourth birthday. For weeks before he had
saved up his pennies, and bought some nice eggs on
which to set Mrs. Hen. The next day was Maggie’s
birthday, and for three long weeks Mrs. Hen had
been sitting on the eggs. Every day Bob had been
anxious, and this, the last night, he could hardly sleep,
his anxiety was so great. When ‘the slanting rays of



the morning sun shown in Bob’s window, he jumped
out of bed with a start, and rushed down into the shed. The first
thing that greeted his ear was a tiny. “Chirp, chirp.” Down on
his knees Bob went, and in spite of the vigorous picks of Mrs.
Hen, he could feel under her, one, two, three, and even four little
chicks. Springing up, he ran into the house and woke Maggie,
crying: “ Maggie, it’s your birthday,” and then he hurried her down
into the shed Maggie was delighted with Bob’s birthday gift, and
Bob was fully repaid for his self-denial.

TOO BAD.

BY SIDNEY DAYRE.

LITTLE while ago the moon was pretty, and large, and round,

q Making shine on the flowers and trees, and shadows along
the ground.

But now, can anyone tell who climbed away, ’way up in the sky,

And watched among the little white clouds ’till the moon came
sailing by,

And carried scissors along with them? Now, mamma, you needn't
laugh;

They've cut the beautiful moon in two and lost the other half.























f OW I lay me,”—repeat it, darling—
“Lay me,” lisped the tiny lips

7 Of my daughter, kneeling, bending
O’er the folded finger-tips. —



And the curly head bent low;
“TI pray the Lord,” I gently added,
“You can say it all, I know.”

‘Pray the Lord,”—the sound came faintly,
Fainter still—*“ My soul to keep;” .
Then the tired head fairly nodded,
And the child was fast asleep.

But the dewy eyes half opened
When I clasped her to my breast;

And the dear voice softly whispered,
“Mamma, God knows all the rest.”























NUMBER ONE.

Sy liye LICE had a peculiar way of always wanting to look out



for Number One. In fact she was, in many things,
very greedy. One day she went into the garden with a
large nice cake. She went and hid herself so that
the other children could not find her, and so that
she could eat the whole cake herself. Her dog saw
her go into the garden and followed her. He teased
for the cake, but Alice only told. him to “go away.” The dog
pulled her dress, but Alice would not give up the cake. She
said she was going to look out for Number One, and would eat
it all herself. Pretty soon the other children called Alice, and
she hid the cake. The dog, after she was gone, thought he
would look out for Number One, so he ate all the cake. When
Alice found the cake gone, she sat on the doorstep and cried,
while Rover howled, and Carlo,-who looked out for Number One,

slunk away. But greedy Alice lost her cake.

ET people drink who will,
g But when they come to you, John,
Boldly say, “I’ve signed the pledge,

And mean to keep it, too,” John.

Give me the drops that glisten
Pure from the mossy rill;
Drops that refresh my spirit,

Making me cheerful still.

























































































































































































MY DOLLY.

F.C. LANGTON,

ONCE had a doll, such a dear little doll!
® It’s hair was the color of gold;

And once when it tumbled quite off by mistake

I thought ’twould of course feel the cold.

So I hid it away in the oven I did,

And thought it would comfort’bly stay
While I went for some glue; but oh, when I looked

My dolly had melted away !

Oh, that dear little doll! Oh, that poor little doll!
It loved me much better, I know,

‘Than any have loved me: ’twas lazy, that doll—
And never would trouble to grow.

It had lovely blue eyes, which it never. would shut
(I wonder they didn’t wear out),

And a sweet little smile, but I never could tell
What that dolly was smiling about.























































































































THE PET CANARY.

PAULINE.

T was Beth’s birthday. Uncle Rob had come out from the city,
® bringing a strange-looking package, wrapped very carefully and
tied with a great deal of string, but open at the top. “Oh,
Uncle Robi is it really something for my birthday?” cried Beth,
and with eager hands she untied the string, only restrained from
cutting it by her mother’s warning glance. All the children helped
and many were the exclamations of delight when, at last, they
espied a beautiful canary hopping about in its tiny house. “This
is a very tame bird,” said Uncle Rob. “You might let it out and
see what it will do.” Mamma took the little house in her lap,
unfastened the door, and out hopped the bird, on her shoulder, not
at all afraid of all the new faces about. “It had a good deal of
petting and handling where it came from,” said Uncle Rob; “the
little ones where this bird lived feel very badly to part with it, but
they are going away out to Colorado Springs, and_ their poor
mamma, for whose sake they are all going, does not feel equal to
the care of taking it along.” “Couldn’t the children have taken
care of it?” I would never have parted with mine for anything
else, if it had not died,” said Susie, soberly. “There were none of
the children as old as you, and they will see so many new things
‘on the way, the bird will not be missed so much after they are
started. But they are likely to have a worse sorrow than losing
their bird, soon,” said Uncle Rob, quietly. “Worse than losing
their bird?” said Susie, “what can be worse? I’d rather lose

anything I have than to lose my bird.” “ Your mamma, for instance?”
said Uncle Rob. “Oh, Uncle Rob, not mamma! Will they—do
you think their mamma will die?” “Yes, it can be only a short

time, a few months at longest, and it may be only a few weeks.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for those poor children. I’d rather lose all the
birds in the world than‘ to lose our mamma,” said Beth, and they
all put their arms around her, lovingly; and Baby Paul, hardly
comprehending it all, rested his face on her arm, saying: “I'd
ruvver have my mamma than zis bird.”












Flowers gay.
Summer
Sweet with hay, |.
Autumn's
Fruit like gold, ji
Winler’s
Snow and cold. |





COUNTING THE ANIMALS.

UTH was in a large hotel with her papa and
mamma, where there were seventy, other children

boarding. Ruth wanted to go to another hotel in a




very quiet place, where there were very few little
people. Her mamma said: “Why, Ruth, I cannot
understand your wish to go there while you have so
many friends here that you love.”

Ruth answered her very earnestly: “Counting
the animals, mamma, I have just -as many friends
there as here.”

Wasn't that lovely, to count the animals among her friends ?
They went to the quiet place and Ruth was very happy. One day
she said: “Mamma, if I couldn’t be a person I would like to be
a cow and choose my own pasture. It should have a brook in it,

and great, beautiful trees.”

A uappy face and cheerful voice
Will cheer up, others too;
If naught were seen but sulks and frowns

Whatever should we do?
a





































DICK AND THE PONY.

AMANDA B, ILARRIS.

UGH and James were twins, and they were named
for their Uncle Hugh James, who was off in Europe.
When he came home they were nearly eight years
old; and he was so pleased that such pretty bright
boys were called by doth his names, that he said he



would give them on their next birthday the thing
they wanted most, if he could get it for them. Both cried out in
the same breath, “A pony, a oxy/” And, sure enough, on the
morning they were eight, a pony came; a little fellow, but plump
as a seal, and so strong that he could have carried half a dozen
such boys on his back, if there had been room for them. They
named him “Sir Gibbie,” and all three became very fond of each
other. Hugh and James could do anything with him; he would
trot, or canter, or dance, or perform tricks just as they asked him
to do. But one day Cousin Dick came to make a visit, and
he said Sir Gibbie ought to learn to “lope,” as he had seen a
Texas mustang. He said he would teach him, and he would ride
bare-backed; so he sprang on, clutched the pony’s mane, and began
to dig his heels into his side, and scream at him to make him go.
Of course Sir Gibbie did not like such treatment; he laid his head
low, shook himself, threw out his fore feet, threw out his hind feet,
and away he went! The hens flew this way and that. Hugh and
James looked a little scared, but Dick laughed as if it was the
greatest fun in the world. But only for a minute; for Sir Gibbie
who had never had boot-heels pounded against him before, or his
mane pulled, just made one -plunge, and threw Dick as far as a
Texas mustang could have done it, and then came dancing back
and laid his head first on Hugh’s shoulder, and then on James’, as
if to say: “I know who my friends are, and I love them.”









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THE MOTHER HEN.

“ Horrid, cross old thing!
Hiding all her chickens,

Underneath her wing

’



Pecking at my finger,
When I give her food.
Tell me, will you, mother,

Why you call her good?”

Mother smiled at Harry,
Such a gentle smile, _
Kept her arm around him

For a little while:
“If I saw some monster
Come near Bell and you,
Would I wait and wonder

What I ought to do?

“IT would have you quickly
Sheltered by my arm,
Safe from coming danger
At the first alarm.
The old hen is acting
As good mothers do.
Shielding chicks from danger

As I would shield you.”















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MY PONY.

From my papa I got;
A brown little pony,
It’s name is Trot-Trot.



No whip and no switch
) On it shall be laid,
No harsh word be spoken

To make it afraid.

It wants not for water,
For oats, nor for hay,
Nor straw in its stable

Fresh strewn every day.

Oh, gayly we canter

Through lane and through lea,
I love my own Trottie,

And Trottie loves me.

‘““T DON’T CARE.”’

ERTIE is a little boy who has a bad way of saying, “I

3 don’t care.” One day Aunt Nell said to him: “Bertie, will

you do an errand for me?” “Oh, yes, ma'am!” cried he;

“what is it?” “Take your naughty ‘don’t care’ away up in the

garret and hide it.” Bertie laughed, and then looked sober. Then

he said: “I will, Aunt Nell,” and away he ran. He must have

hidden it very carefully, for he hasn’t found it yet! Now, if any

more of our little ones have such naughty things, we hope they
will hide them too.



MY PONY.

From my papa I got;
A brown little pony,
It’s name is Trot-Trot.



No whip and no switch
) On it shall be laid,
No harsh word be spoken

To make it afraid.

It wants not for water,
For oats, nor for hay,
Nor straw in its stable

Fresh strewn every day.

Oh, gayly we canter

Through lane and through lea,
I love my own Trottie,

And Trottie loves me.

‘““T DON’T CARE.”’

ERTIE is a little boy who has a bad way of saying, “I

3 don’t care.” One day Aunt Nell said to him: “Bertie, will

you do an errand for me?” “Oh, yes, ma'am!” cried he;

“what is it?” “Take your naughty ‘don’t care’ away up in the

garret and hide it.” Bertie laughed, and then looked sober. Then

he said: “I will, Aunt Nell,” and away he ran. He must have

hidden it very carefully, for he hasn’t found it yet! Now, if any

more of our little ones have such naughty things, we hope they
will hide them too.









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FIDO AND THE PUMP.

MRS. LIZZIE L. SLOANAKER,

IDO came out out one morning
After a nice long sleep,
-. To find the earth was covered

By the snow so cold and deep.



A tramp stood stark and lifeless,
Muffled in garments fair;

His hat was made of snow-flakes,
And icicles crowned his hair.

Toward Fido he extended
His long arm, still and white ;
Doggie barked and howled at him

From morning until night.

And then disgusted, sullen,
He in the house did walk,
Disgusted with the snow-tramp

Because he wouldn’t talk!

THE WRONG END.

# ITTLE three-year-old Arthur was pulling the cat’s tail,

when a gentleman visiting there said: “ You mustn’t

do that; she will bite.” To this he replied: “Cats



don’t bite at this end.”



FIDO AND THE PUMP.

MRS. LIZZIE L. SLOANAKER,

IDO came out out one morning
After a nice long sleep,
-. To find the earth was covered

By the snow so cold and deep.



A tramp stood stark and lifeless,
Muffled in garments fair;

His hat was made of snow-flakes,
And icicles crowned his hair.

Toward Fido he extended
His long arm, still and white ;
Doggie barked and howled at him

From morning until night.

And then disgusted, sullen,
He in the house did walk,
Disgusted with the snow-tramp

Because he wouldn’t talk!

THE WRONG END.

# ITTLE three-year-old Arthur was pulling the cat’s tail,

when a gentleman visiting there said: “ You mustn’t

do that; she will bite.” To this he replied: “Cats



don’t bite at this end.”























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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THAT QUEER

OLD MAN IN THE MOON,

BY MARION GAY

AND OTHER STORIES.



ILLUSTRATED.



COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY D. -R. NIVER PUB. CO.

BOSTON, MASS.:
TRA BRADLEY & Co., 162 WASHINGTON STREET.
1889.
THE MAN IN THE MOON.

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

“\ H, the man in the moon has a crick in his back;





Whee! Whimm! Ain’t you sorry for him?
} And a mole on his nose that is purple and black;
: And his eyes are so weak that they water and run,
Ss If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun,
_ So he just dreams of stars, as the doctors advise.
My! Eyes! But isn’t he wise
To just dream of stars, as the doctors advise.

And the man in the moon has a boil on his ear;
Whee! Whing! What a singular thing!

I know; but these facts are authentic, my dear—

There’s a boil on his ear, and a corn on his chin—

He calls it a dimple, but dimples stick in;

Yet it might be a dimple, turned over you know;
Whang! Ho! Why, certainly so!

It might be a dimple turned over, you know! |

And the man in the moon has a rheumatic knee;
Gee! Whizz! What a pity that is!
His toes have worked ’round where his heels ought to be;
’ So whenever he wants to go north he goes south,
And comes back with the porridge crumbs all ’round his
mouth,
And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan,
Whing! Whann! What a marvelous man!
What a very remarkable, marvelous man!

*


What she must do
With her beautiful Dolly,

So nice and new.

She thinks she will lend it
To dear little Jane—
Her friend who is poorly,

And suffers great pain.

She knows to give pleasure
To others is right;
So with selfishness Fanny’s °

Determined to fight.


THE SWAN AND HER FAMILY.

OF course nearly all the children have seen the beau-



tiful swan. They are by far the handsomest of home
fowls. In this picture you will see the old swan
feeding her young. There are five of the young
ones, and the mother is watching over them, and
caring for them. In the large parks in the cities, the ponds are
always stocked with the handsome and graceful swans. In Central
Park, in New York, there were a number of swans on one of the
ponds that were very tame. One day a little girl went down by
the edge of the pond to play, while her nurse sat down to read a
book near by. The little girl wandered out on a little rustic
bridge, and while pushing chips around on the water, playing they
were her ships, she lost her balance and fell into the water. The
swans made an awful noise and flapped their wings, attracting the
attention of the nurse and two workmen, who rushed to the pond

and pulled the little girl out of the water.

A TALE OF WOE.

HERE was a considerable crocodile,
Who lay on the banks of the river Nile.
And he swallowed a fish with a tale of woe,
While his tears ran fast to the stream: below.
“I am mourning,” said he, “the untimely fate
Of the dear little fish that I just now ate!“






































































































































THE ATTACK.

FF they raced! :

“Oh, put away your books!” called their
governess.

An instant’s pause, then Phil, who was
always so conscientious, rushed back.

“Tl do it!” he exclaimed; “you get the
snowballs made.”

The rest ran on to the place, where at two
o'clock their cousins had arranged to meet
them.

Phil was not long behind the rest; for Miss

Rolls had helped him in her own pleasant way;



but when the whole party reached the place,
there, cleverly ensconced behind a fine rampart, were the rosy
faces of five cousins, “armed to the teeth,” as one may say, with
white cannon-balls.

When the hour pealed forth over the snowy fields, the first ball
whizzed through the air, and soon you might have thought it was
a giants’ snow-storm !

“T say, give us time to wink!” called Phil, winking however
towards his brother, while he pressed an extra close one, to do
extra execution.

“JT dare say!” laughed Bertie from the ramparts, sending a swift
one with good aim; “wouldn’t you like us to take it in turns?”

The giants’ snow-storm lasted until it got too dark to see, and
then, neither party confessing to defeat, the enemies joined hands.
and raced home again !

“ Jolly!” said Phil; and so said all the rest!
yy NNN

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DOLLY’S NEW HEAD.

* FATHER sat beside the fire,
And, as the news he read,

He heard his children tell a tale
About their Dolly’s head. |



“Don’t you remember Christmas day,
When Aunt brought Dolly down?
She said it was the finest doll

She saw in all the town!”

“Yes, Janie, J remember well
When Dolly first came here,
And we all kissed her, for she was

A sweet and darling dear.

“Alas! One day she lost her head,
While romping, I’m afraid;
But, with our rags and box of paints,

A new head soon we made.”

AFRAID OF THE BARK.

(% OME on, come on!” said a gentleman to a little girl, at

whom a dog had been barking furiously; “Come on, he’s
quiet now.” “But,” said the little girl, nervously, “the barks are

in him still.”


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A SLEEPY LITTLE SCHOOL,

FUNNY old professor kept a school for little boys,

And he’d romp with them in playtime, and he wouldn't
mind their noise;

While in his little schocl-room, with its head against



the wall,
Was a bed of such proportions, it was big enough for all.

“It's for tired little pupils,” he exclaimed; “for you will find

How very wrong indeed it is to force a budding mind;
Whenever one grows sleepy and he can’t hold up his head,

I make him lay his primer down and send him off to bed!

“And sometimes it will happen on a warm and pleasant day,
When the little bird’s upon the trees go too-ral-loo-ral-lay,

~ When wide-awake and studious its difficult to keep,

One by one they'll get a-nodding ’till the whole class is asleep!

“Then before they’re all in dreamland and their funny snores
begin,

I close the shutters softly so the sunlight can’t come in,

After which I put the school-books in their order on the shelf;

And, with nothing else to do, I take a little nap myself.”

BRIGHT BOYS.

RQ EALTHY boys are usually bright boys; but boys are



BS not really healthy unless they are healthy in soul as
, well as in body. The boy whose mouth is full of
vile talk, and whose heart is full of evil thoughts, may
be sharp and cunning, and crafty and tricky, but he is not likely |
to be a bright boy. We miss in him the steady, honest glance,
the clear, bright, earnest gaze, the fearlessness which looks men in
the face, without bravado or hesitation. There is no fairer sight
than the sight of a bright, clear-eyed, honest, happy boy; while
there are few sights more pitiful than the crouching, sneaking,
lying, thieving, drinking, tobacco-chewing boy. We hope all the
boys who read this book will be bright boys, honest boys, Christian

boys.




A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

‘f7 OB wanted to make his little sister Maggie a present
on her fourth birthday. For weeks before he had
saved up his pennies, and bought some nice eggs on
which to set Mrs. Hen. The next day was Maggie’s
birthday, and for three long weeks Mrs. Hen had
been sitting on the eggs. Every day Bob had been
anxious, and this, the last night, he could hardly sleep,
his anxiety was so great. When ‘the slanting rays of



the morning sun shown in Bob’s window, he jumped
out of bed with a start, and rushed down into the shed. The first
thing that greeted his ear was a tiny. “Chirp, chirp.” Down on
his knees Bob went, and in spite of the vigorous picks of Mrs.
Hen, he could feel under her, one, two, three, and even four little
chicks. Springing up, he ran into the house and woke Maggie,
crying: “ Maggie, it’s your birthday,” and then he hurried her down
into the shed Maggie was delighted with Bob’s birthday gift, and
Bob was fully repaid for his self-denial.

TOO BAD.

BY SIDNEY DAYRE.

LITTLE while ago the moon was pretty, and large, and round,

q Making shine on the flowers and trees, and shadows along
the ground.

But now, can anyone tell who climbed away, ’way up in the sky,

And watched among the little white clouds ’till the moon came
sailing by,

And carried scissors along with them? Now, mamma, you needn't
laugh;

They've cut the beautiful moon in two and lost the other half.














f OW I lay me,”—repeat it, darling—
“Lay me,” lisped the tiny lips

7 Of my daughter, kneeling, bending
O’er the folded finger-tips. —



And the curly head bent low;
“TI pray the Lord,” I gently added,
“You can say it all, I know.”

‘Pray the Lord,”—the sound came faintly,
Fainter still—*“ My soul to keep;” .
Then the tired head fairly nodded,
And the child was fast asleep.

But the dewy eyes half opened
When I clasped her to my breast;

And the dear voice softly whispered,
“Mamma, God knows all the rest.”

















NUMBER ONE.

Sy liye LICE had a peculiar way of always wanting to look out



for Number One. In fact she was, in many things,
very greedy. One day she went into the garden with a
large nice cake. She went and hid herself so that
the other children could not find her, and so that
she could eat the whole cake herself. Her dog saw
her go into the garden and followed her. He teased
for the cake, but Alice only told. him to “go away.” The dog
pulled her dress, but Alice would not give up the cake. She
said she was going to look out for Number One, and would eat
it all herself. Pretty soon the other children called Alice, and
she hid the cake. The dog, after she was gone, thought he
would look out for Number One, so he ate all the cake. When
Alice found the cake gone, she sat on the doorstep and cried,
while Rover howled, and Carlo,-who looked out for Number One,

slunk away. But greedy Alice lost her cake.

ET people drink who will,
g But when they come to you, John,
Boldly say, “I’ve signed the pledge,

And mean to keep it, too,” John.

Give me the drops that glisten
Pure from the mossy rill;
Drops that refresh my spirit,

Making me cheerful still.
















































































































































































MY DOLLY.

F.C. LANGTON,

ONCE had a doll, such a dear little doll!
® It’s hair was the color of gold;

And once when it tumbled quite off by mistake

I thought ’twould of course feel the cold.

So I hid it away in the oven I did,

And thought it would comfort’bly stay
While I went for some glue; but oh, when I looked

My dolly had melted away !

Oh, that dear little doll! Oh, that poor little doll!
It loved me much better, I know,

‘Than any have loved me: ’twas lazy, that doll—
And never would trouble to grow.

It had lovely blue eyes, which it never. would shut
(I wonder they didn’t wear out),

And a sweet little smile, but I never could tell
What that dolly was smiling about.

















































































































THE PET CANARY.

PAULINE.

T was Beth’s birthday. Uncle Rob had come out from the city,
® bringing a strange-looking package, wrapped very carefully and
tied with a great deal of string, but open at the top. “Oh,
Uncle Robi is it really something for my birthday?” cried Beth,
and with eager hands she untied the string, only restrained from
cutting it by her mother’s warning glance. All the children helped
and many were the exclamations of delight when, at last, they
espied a beautiful canary hopping about in its tiny house. “This
is a very tame bird,” said Uncle Rob. “You might let it out and
see what it will do.” Mamma took the little house in her lap,
unfastened the door, and out hopped the bird, on her shoulder, not
at all afraid of all the new faces about. “It had a good deal of
petting and handling where it came from,” said Uncle Rob; “the
little ones where this bird lived feel very badly to part with it, but
they are going away out to Colorado Springs, and_ their poor
mamma, for whose sake they are all going, does not feel equal to
the care of taking it along.” “Couldn’t the children have taken
care of it?” I would never have parted with mine for anything
else, if it had not died,” said Susie, soberly. “There were none of
the children as old as you, and they will see so many new things
‘on the way, the bird will not be missed so much after they are
started. But they are likely to have a worse sorrow than losing
their bird, soon,” said Uncle Rob, quietly. “Worse than losing
their bird?” said Susie, “what can be worse? I’d rather lose

anything I have than to lose my bird.” “ Your mamma, for instance?”
said Uncle Rob. “Oh, Uncle Rob, not mamma! Will they—do
you think their mamma will die?” “Yes, it can be only a short

time, a few months at longest, and it may be only a few weeks.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for those poor children. I’d rather lose all the
birds in the world than‘ to lose our mamma,” said Beth, and they
all put their arms around her, lovingly; and Baby Paul, hardly
comprehending it all, rested his face on her arm, saying: “I'd
ruvver have my mamma than zis bird.”






Flowers gay.
Summer
Sweet with hay, |.
Autumn's
Fruit like gold, ji
Winler’s
Snow and cold. |


COUNTING THE ANIMALS.

UTH was in a large hotel with her papa and
mamma, where there were seventy, other children

boarding. Ruth wanted to go to another hotel in a




very quiet place, where there were very few little
people. Her mamma said: “Why, Ruth, I cannot
understand your wish to go there while you have so
many friends here that you love.”

Ruth answered her very earnestly: “Counting
the animals, mamma, I have just -as many friends
there as here.”

Wasn't that lovely, to count the animals among her friends ?
They went to the quiet place and Ruth was very happy. One day
she said: “Mamma, if I couldn’t be a person I would like to be
a cow and choose my own pasture. It should have a brook in it,

and great, beautiful trees.”

A uappy face and cheerful voice
Will cheer up, others too;
If naught were seen but sulks and frowns

Whatever should we do?
a































DICK AND THE PONY.

AMANDA B, ILARRIS.

UGH and James were twins, and they were named
for their Uncle Hugh James, who was off in Europe.
When he came home they were nearly eight years
old; and he was so pleased that such pretty bright
boys were called by doth his names, that he said he



would give them on their next birthday the thing
they wanted most, if he could get it for them. Both cried out in
the same breath, “A pony, a oxy/” And, sure enough, on the
morning they were eight, a pony came; a little fellow, but plump
as a seal, and so strong that he could have carried half a dozen
such boys on his back, if there had been room for them. They
named him “Sir Gibbie,” and all three became very fond of each
other. Hugh and James could do anything with him; he would
trot, or canter, or dance, or perform tricks just as they asked him
to do. But one day Cousin Dick came to make a visit, and
he said Sir Gibbie ought to learn to “lope,” as he had seen a
Texas mustang. He said he would teach him, and he would ride
bare-backed; so he sprang on, clutched the pony’s mane, and began
to dig his heels into his side, and scream at him to make him go.
Of course Sir Gibbie did not like such treatment; he laid his head
low, shook himself, threw out his fore feet, threw out his hind feet,
and away he went! The hens flew this way and that. Hugh and
James looked a little scared, but Dick laughed as if it was the
greatest fun in the world. But only for a minute; for Sir Gibbie
who had never had boot-heels pounded against him before, or his
mane pulled, just made one -plunge, and threw Dick as far as a
Texas mustang could have done it, and then came dancing back
and laid his head first on Hugh’s shoulder, and then on James’, as
if to say: “I know who my friends are, and I love them.”



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THE MOTHER HEN.

“ Horrid, cross old thing!
Hiding all her chickens,

Underneath her wing

’



Pecking at my finger,
When I give her food.
Tell me, will you, mother,

Why you call her good?”

Mother smiled at Harry,
Such a gentle smile, _
Kept her arm around him

For a little while:
“If I saw some monster
Come near Bell and you,
Would I wait and wonder

What I ought to do?

“IT would have you quickly
Sheltered by my arm,
Safe from coming danger
At the first alarm.
The old hen is acting
As good mothers do.
Shielding chicks from danger

As I would shield you.”












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MY PONY.

From my papa I got;
A brown little pony,
It’s name is Trot-Trot.



No whip and no switch
) On it shall be laid,
No harsh word be spoken

To make it afraid.

It wants not for water,
For oats, nor for hay,
Nor straw in its stable

Fresh strewn every day.

Oh, gayly we canter

Through lane and through lea,
I love my own Trottie,

And Trottie loves me.

‘““T DON’T CARE.”’

ERTIE is a little boy who has a bad way of saying, “I

3 don’t care.” One day Aunt Nell said to him: “Bertie, will

you do an errand for me?” “Oh, yes, ma'am!” cried he;

“what is it?” “Take your naughty ‘don’t care’ away up in the

garret and hide it.” Bertie laughed, and then looked sober. Then

he said: “I will, Aunt Nell,” and away he ran. He must have

hidden it very carefully, for he hasn’t found it yet! Now, if any

more of our little ones have such naughty things, we hope they
will hide them too.



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FIDO AND THE PUMP.

MRS. LIZZIE L. SLOANAKER,

IDO came out out one morning
After a nice long sleep,
-. To find the earth was covered

By the snow so cold and deep.



A tramp stood stark and lifeless,
Muffled in garments fair;

His hat was made of snow-flakes,
And icicles crowned his hair.

Toward Fido he extended
His long arm, still and white ;
Doggie barked and howled at him

From morning until night.

And then disgusted, sullen,
He in the house did walk,
Disgusted with the snow-tramp

Because he wouldn’t talk!

THE WRONG END.

# ITTLE three-year-old Arthur was pulling the cat’s tail,

when a gentleman visiting there said: “ You mustn’t

do that; she will bite.” To this he replied: “Cats



don’t bite at this end.”